


Much Ado About Muffin

by grey2510, ThayerKerbasy



Series: Pour Some Sugar on Dean (In the Name of Love) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Canonverse Cafe Not-AU, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Timestamp, unrepentant abuse of math and language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: All work and no play would make Dean, Cas, and Crowley dull boys... But they do have to do their work first. At least work these days is figuring out how to run a café, not fighting monsters...and the rewards are so much sweeter.





	Much Ado About Muffin

**Author's Note:**

> All the kudos to Thayer for the title (which actually came up during our title war for The Apple Pie Life). I'm absolutely KICKING myself I didn't come up with it, seeing as Much Ado is my favorite Shakespeare play, but Thayer knows me so well and knew I'd like it. I couldn't let that genius languish in just a promo. <3 Grey

When Dean first came up with his vision of owning a café, he'd known there'd be things about the job he wouldn't like. That was life: no job was perfect 100% of the time. (Although this still beat cleaning blood and guts out of Baby's upholstery or cracked ribs and stitches and broken bones or the world nearly ending. So, he shouldn't complain.)

True, he hadn't expected to practically need HR training to deal with his very small staff, but they'd muddled through. More than muddled through, really, if the arm Dean currently had slung around Cas’ shoulders along the back of the booth and the foot he had entangled with Crowley's under the table were any indication.

Workplace drama mostly solved, the biggest downer left about this job was the business side of things.

It was after-hours and the three of them were going through their records and doing their menu planning, making sure they were giving their customers what they wanted for a good price, but also making sure they were operating in the black.

Dean could do the numbers if he wanted to, but he was just as happy to let Cas’ big angel brain calculate it all out and then they would tell Sam so it could all go into a spreadsheet or QuickBooks or whatever. Crowley and Dean supplied the food and drink considerations, and Dean gave it all the final say-so. It was a fairly smooth operation, all things considered, even if Dean would rather be baking pies than talking about them.

Normally, Sam would be here for these little meetings, but he was currently knee-deep in research with a few hunters from the Apocalypse World who'd decided to stay when Charlie had rounded the rest up to go back and fix their home world, now that Michael was toast. (And apparently Charlie and Ketch had become a decent team when Dean had had to leave them behind that one time, because Ketch had decided follow her back. Dean wasn't sure how he felt about any of that, but it wasn't his place to intervene. He could only hope that Ketch had turned a corner and that he'd be a good ally to Charlie.)

"The scones sold well," Cas was saying from Dean's left. "Are we continuing those next month?"

"Of course," replied Crowley. "I may change the flavors… Perhaps something with lemon, since we're heading into warmer weather. Might retire the brown sugar cinnamon ones for a bit."

With his free hand, Dean scribbled notes on the back of an old order form. They didn't really need his chicken scratch, but it helped him think to write it down as they went, or to doodle in the margins while they talked. He paused writing for a moment, and his left thumb traced small circles on the back of Cas’ neck as he thought. Crowley gave him a small smirk and then Dean felt a foot go up his calf. Like a damn cat who didn't want to be forgotten. As if Dean _could_ forget.

Cas arched an eyebrow and looked between the two of them. "Whatever you two are doing, can it not wait until we're done here?"

"What?" Dean sputtered. "We're not—"

"You have a terrible poker face, Buttercup," Crowley said. "But Bubbles is right: we should get through work so we can play, lest we become very dull boys."

Biting back a retort (because he had a feeling that revealing his knowledge of _Powerpuff Girls_ probably wouldn't have the scathing effect he wanted), Dean schooled his features as best he could. _Terrible poker face, my ass._ Blossom over there still smirked knowingly at him. Bastard.

He went back to his notes, drawing little boxes around certain things, underlining others, and noticed something he'd jotted down earlier but they hadn't gotten to yet. "How about muffins? We figure out the best price for a fuckton of 'em?"

"And what, pray tell, is considered a 'fuckton’?" Crowley asked.

"A dozen, obviously."

Cas noticed his paper. "Don't tell me you actually plan on marketing them as 'a fuckton of muffins’."

That was what he'd written down for his own notes, but he hadn't actually considered it until now. He grinned, just to annoy Cas. "Why not?"

"You'll offend people."

"Cas," Dean laughed, "we're three men in a relationship in fucking Nowhere, Kansas—and it ain't like it's a secret—and _now_ you're worried about offending the locals?"

Cas pursed his lips. "There's a difference between a consensual, loving relationship—"

"Aw, Sparkles, you're making me blush…"

"—and gratuitous profanity," Cas finished, glaring at Crowley for the interruption.

Crowley just winked. "Don't see why we can't have both."

"See? Crowley's on my side." Dean leaned back in the booth, stretching his legs out under the table.

"Hardly. It's a terrible marketing strategy. I just don't object to rough language on principle." Dean shot him a look, but Crowley ignored it. "Back to the original point: people rarely buy that many muffins at once, unless it's to appease their coworkers."

"Exactly," Dean said. "'s why a dozen is a fuckton. Anything more than three is a lot, more than seven is a ton…"

Cas narrowed his eyes. "That's not how math or language works."

"Sure it is."

Instead of replying, Cas simply turned his attention to Crowley. "So we keep the price as is?"

Crowley nodded. "I would think so."

Looking between them, Dean scowled. "You two are no fun."

Now it was Cas’ turn to smirk (smolder?) and _holy shit_ that should be illegal, and was that a hand on Dean's thigh? Oh he was never going to make it out of this alive…

"I thought we were trying to wrap up quickly so we could see just how much _fun_ we are, but if you wish to continue our business in more detail on this matter, by all means…"

Dean swallowed. "Nope. Nope, I'm good."

"Excellent," Crowley chimed in, sliding out of the booth. "Shall we?"

Oh, they _shall_.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Thayer’s light and fluffy apple cinnamon muffins (pictured above):** [recipe](https://thayerkerbasy.tumblr.com/post/158700370934/thayers-light-and-fluffy-apple-cinnamon-muffins)
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